


Feather Pillows

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Comforting Dean Winchester, Cuddle Pile, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Fluff, Gen, Guilty Castiel (Supernatural), Holding Hands, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Sequel, Tired Sam Winchester, Touchy-Feely, to Barbed Wire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: After a night time case gone wrong nearly kills Sam, he and Dean and Castiel retreat to a motel to sleep through the day. Everybody's a little shaken up still, though. Sequel to my fanfic Barbed Wire.





	Feather Pillows

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my fic! This can be read standalone, but to see how everybody got to this point, I highly recommend reading my fanfic [Barbed Wire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680226). It's Sam whumpy and full of Team Free Will hurt/comfort. Without further ado, onward, to the cuddles!

The desk clerk gave Dean some serious side-eye when he asked for a room with only one bed. Sam and Cas stood behind him, the brunette leaning heavily on the angel’s shoulder, and they still had blood on their shirt and hands respectively. Still, it was a cheap 24-hour motel in a tiny town — the lady took Dean’s money and handed him some keys without voicing any of her questions.

“C’mon, we’re on the end,” Dean told Sam and Cas, leading them back out of the office. This was one of those places with tiny individual houses for the rooms. Theirs was indeed on the end, and sported faded lavender siding and a bright red door. Dean snorted at the tiny white picket fence around the four feet or so of “yard” in front of the building, stepping up to unlock it.

Sam deserved a fancy hotel room with a big, soft bed and room service, but this would have to do for now. The sun had risen on the drive here, and they’d just finished wrecking an ancient demon sigil array; it was best to be out of sight for now, anyway.

“Here, Sam,” Castiel murmured, helping Sam over to sit on the edge of the bed. Cheap motels weren’t known for having big beds, and this one was no exception — Dean was pretty sure it was a full mattress, not a queen. He locked the door and came over to sit beside Sam, brushing the hair back from his forehead. His little brother was barely staying sitting up. He’d had a hell of a night, been through a lot of pain, and Dean was keeping an eye on him for signs of shock.

“Let’s get your shirts off,” he told Sam, taking hold of one sleeve of his flannel shirt and starting to slip it off over his hand. 

“That’s…it’s fine, I’m fine,” Sam mumbled, pretty unconvincingly. He was pale and shivering. From his other side, Cas gripped his shoulder gently.

“Your clothes are bloody, Sam,” he said reasonably. “You’ll be more comfortable without them.” 

Sam looked at him tiredly, sighing.

“You’re bloody, too.”

“I’ll worry about that after I help you,” the angel insisted, lifting Sam’s hand and starting to pull the sleeve of his flannel shirt down. Sam made no objections this time, so Dean helped with the other sleeve. Once the flannel was out of the way, next came the poor T-shirt Dean had cut through the middle of. 

Sam’s torso looked perfectly healed now, but the image of blood and guts there was all too fresh in Dean’s mind. Cas’s hands had been in the middle of it all, pulling glinting barbed wire out of his brother’s stomach. Dean swallowed at the memory of the metallic smell in the air, all of that blood smearing and soaking against the edges of Sam’s shirts. 

He crumpled the stained clothes up and threw them across the room. 

“I-I’m not hurt anymore, remember?” Sam told him, when Dean hugged around his waist and helped him lay down. He went with it, though, sinking gratefully into the white motel pillows and sighing. Dean moved and took off his boots for him while Cas was over at the sink washing the blood off of his hands. 

If Dean knew the angel by now, he probably planned to stand aside and let the brothers sleep. He’d been through an ordeal tonight too, though, and he’d admitted back in the field that he was tired.

“Need anything before we pile in and get cozy?” Dean asked his brother, smiling. He was trying to lighten the mood — thinking about how close he’d come to losing Sam made him sick. Seeing Sam suffering, that made him sick, too. Sam was the one who’d gone through so much, though, and Dean was focused on making him comfortable, not processing his own emotions right now. There would be time for that later.

“You weren’t kidding about a cuddle pile,” Sam replied, sounding a bit indignant but also too tired to protest much. “No, don’t need anything.”

Dean nodded, sitting on the side of the bed and taking off his boots. 

“Good, ‘cause once we lay down I bet we’re out like lights. Cas, c’mon, pile in.”

Castiel stepped over near the bed, the blood gone from his hands. His blue eyes flicked from Dean to Sam and back again, and he frowned.

“I don’t need to sleep. The bed isn’t large enough for the three of us,” he said frankly. 

“Sure it is, if we’re here for a cuddle pile,” Dean said dismissively. “I’m too tired to argue with you — just take your shoes and coat off and get in the damned bed, please?”

Cas squinted at him for a moment more, but concluded that he was serious. He shrugged and slipped off his trench coat, then sat to remove his shoes one by one. 

It was pretty rare to see Cas in less than three layers (not that Dean could talk.) The angel looked smaller without the coat, and almost soft when he removed the suit jacket, leaving him in his white dress shirt. Dean leaned to check on Sam, placing a hand on his forehead.

His brother gasped, eyes flying open. 

“D-Dean, you startled me,” Sam mumbled, shivering. 

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean said, smoothing his hair back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas pull off his tie and then turn to crawl into the bed beside Sam.

“Cuddle pile,” Sam said when he looked at the angel, like he was reminding himself. Castiel lay down close to his side, resting his head on the same pillow Sam was using. He and Sam looked at each other for a moment, and Dean could see how guilty Cas still was for having to cause Sam so much pain earlier. He’d said that Sam’s soul was scratched, and that plus the ordeal he’d been through must be why he was still so shaken.

“Lights out,” Dean declared, flipping the switch. It was broad daylight outside, and a bit of sun peeked in through the blinds as he turned and crawled into the bed, too.

Sam felt a little cold, and he was trembling pretty badly still. When Dean went to put an arm around his waist, he found Cas’s arm already there, so he hugged right over the top of it. 

“Last night sucked,” he declared, lowering his head to rest against Sam’s shoulder. He heard two sighs in response, and knew that they all felt exactly the same. Moving his hand, Dean pretended it was a coincidence that he ended up brushing fingers with Cas. The angel was focused on Sam, but glanced at him sadly. 

“Thought I was dying,” Sam admitted, sounding so exhausted. He shivered against Dean’s side, and his brother pulled the comforter up over them all.

“You could’ve,” Dean murmured, closing his eyes. “But I knew you wouldn’t. Knew Cas would fix it.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Cas whispered, “Thank you, Dean.” He sounded almost choked up about it. Did he think they’d doubted him?

“You really did fix it, Cas. I’m here thanks to you.” Dean heard the rustle of the comforter, and peeked over his brother’s chest to find Sam’s other arm wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders. 

“I wish I could have spared you such pain,” Cas whispered back. He turned on his side, though, and rested his head against Sam’s other shoulder. Slices of light fell across his messy dark hair from the blinds as he studied Sam’s face sadly.

“But I’m here,” Sam repeated, eyes falling closed again. He sighed slowly. “Because of you.”

Dean was finding it hard to keep his eyes open, too. Still, he reached over Sam and patted Cas’s arm.

“We’ll be okay,” he promised with certainty. Blue eyes turned on him, and Dean was glad he’d insisted the angel join them in their ridiculous cuddle pile. He slipped his hand into Cas's, lacing their fingers. Sam was asleep already, breathing slow and even. They lay there, each with their heads on his shoulders, and looked at each other.

“We’ll be okay,” Cas echoed finally, softly, and Dean smiled and closed his eyes. He was asleep before he remembered to let go of the angel’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know, there are no literal feather pillows in this fic. I had Cas's wings in mind while writing, and of course the idea that soft feather pillows are the opposite of sharp barbed wire. Comments and kudos always appreciated!


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